Like A Dream
by Dominus Umbra
Summary: When a one of their own is found left for dead, the reprecussions go far beyond the obvious as the team struggle to deal with the fallout and find the one responsible.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: A random idea that came to be when I was s'pose to be sleeping. I have **_**absolutely**_** no idea where I'm going with this, so until I work it out this probably won't be updated much. That's what I get for indulging late-night plot bunnies, I guess. I'm gunna try to make the pairing Rachel/Millie, but I'll see where it goes.**

Chapter One

The nightshift had so far been slow. Sergeant Rachel Weston was sitting in the IRV outside a 24-hour café favoured by police unfortunate enough to get the late-night shift, sipping a coffee and listening to her partner for the night, Arun, recount an anecdote from his training.

"So yeah, anyway, as he's climbing back down the tree with his baton in his mouth, our drill sergeant comes out and stands just next to me, and I'm too scared to say anything so when Bobby gets to the ground and turns around, he comes face-to-face with–" He was cut off as his radio crackled into life. Rachel's grin faded as they both froze to listen to the call.

"_All units from Sierra Oscar; reports of a theft at the Andromeda bar, any unit deal?"_

Arun looked questioningly at his sergeant, who handed him her mostly-empty coffee and reached for her radio. _"Sierra Oscar from Sierra One, show us dealing."_ She replied as she started the car and Arun poured the remaining coffee out the window.

They pulled up in front of the nightclub about ten minutes later. After pushing their way through a semi-drunk crowd of partygoers, Rachel and Arun were waved over by a man standing by the door next to a bouncer, who was holding onto a girl who looked about sixteen.

"Good, you're here. You took your time." He snapped, looking irritated. He interrupted Rachel's apology with a wave of his hand. "Never mind that, I want to know what you're going to do about this delinquent."

"What's she done, sir?" The sergeant questioned, motioning Arun to go and talk to the girl.

"The sneaky bitch took my wallet."

"No I never!" The girl yelled, pushing past Arun towards her accuser. The gesture started a screaming match between the two civilians, which lasted until Rachel threatened to arrest both of them. The sergeant then told Arun to search the girl, at which point she caved and admitted to taking the wallet. "I was gunna give it back. S'not like I was gunna keep it or nufin'." She muttered, handing it back to the guy.

"Right." He didn't sound convinced.

"Will you be wanting to press charges, sir?"

"More trouble than it's worth. Forget it." He gave them a contemptuous wave and disappeared back into the club.

"If we catch you again, it'll be a different story, you understand?" Arun warned the girl as he let her go.

"Whatever." She too, disappeared into the crowd.

As the two officers were making their way back to the car, however, another guy waved them over to where he stood, next to the entrance of the alley that ran down the side of the building."Officers, thank god you're here; I was just about to call you." he said over the pounding music of the club beside them. "There's a woman down there; I think she's been hurt. She won't let me or Kenny anywhere near her." He motioned to a bouncer who was standing a bit further down the alley, obviously keeping an eye on the victim.

"Thank you, sir, we'll take a look. If you could both just wait here; we'll need a statement from the pair of you." He nodded, and Rachel made her way cautiously in the direction he'd indicated, with Arun close behind her.

It didn't take them long to find her. She had pushed herself into a corner, and had curled herself tightly in the foetal position with her head buried in her arms. In the half-light cast into the alley by a nearby street light as well as the light from the club, they could see dark bruises on her wrists and a bloodstain on one of her sleeves. Rachel motioned for Arun to stay back, before slowly approaching the woman. "Madam? I'm Sergeant Weston from Sun Hill, you're—Oh my god…" She trailed off as the woman raised her head slightly, and both officers saw her face.

"Oh crap, Millie?"

**PS: Happy Australia Day.**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: I tried writing this in 3rd person, but 2nd seemed to work better. Lemme know what you think. Also, I'm probably gunna have to up the rating.  
**

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Chapter Two

Your first instinct, when it was over and he'd walked back up the alley and out of your sight, was to find the closest hole and crawl into it. Failing that, you push yourself into the nearest corner you can find, between the wall and the dumpster, and curl up with your knees to your chest and your head buried in your arms. It makes you feel safer, if only slightly. You can hear the pounding of the music through the wall; feel it thumping through your chest, matching the rhythm of your heart. Racing faster than your heart are your thoughts, which are rushing through your head far too quickly for the miniscule part of your mind that's still thinking rationally to comprehend. Why had he done it? Why you? What if he came back? You should get out of there, but your legs don't seem to be working.

A sound jerks your mind out of its terrified spiral, and you feel your senses go on high alert. The sound is getting closer, and the tiny bit of your brain that hasn't succumbed to panic identifies it as footsteps. Has he changed his mind and come back to follow through on his threat? The footsteps falter and slow as they draw closer.

"Are you alright, love?" The concern in the voice doesn't register with you. All you know is that he's another stranger.

You whimper, and push yourself as far as possible into the corner. He takes another step towards you, but you whimper again and the footsteps recede. You curl yourself tighter, in case he decides to come back.

You're not sure how long you sit there, pushed protectively into the corner, before you hear more footsteps over the pounding music. There are at least two of them, and they approach you slowly. Then one of them speaks.

"Madam? I'm Sergeant Weston from Sun Hill, you're…" You know that name; that voice. You raise your head slightly and identify two familiar figures standing a few metres from you. You see their eyes widen in shock as they recognise you, and the one behind moves forward.

"Oh crap, Millie?"

Too fast. Too close. Your mind screams at him to back off, and you push yourself into the corner, clenching yourself more tightly. His footsteps falter as she pulls him back; you hear their whispered conversation, but your brain doesn't comprehend its meaning.

After a second, you hear one set of footsteps retreating, while the other approaches. She doesn't come too close, though. Instead, she stops a few feet from you, and crouches down to your level. "Millie? You're okay now, no-one's gunna hurt you." You know her voice. She's a friend; she won't hurt you. You watch her cautiously though a veil of hair as she shifts closer, but her presence is calming your frantic mind and you feel your heart rate settle somewhat. You try not to react when she reaches out a hand and lays it on your arm, but you do feel yourself tremor under her touch. "Shh, it's okay Millie, I'm not gunna hurt you." She shifts her position and brushes the hair away from your face.

Slowly, that little voice of reason in your head gets louder, and this time you don't flinch when she touches you. Her hand cups your cheek – not the one _he_ touched – and she raises your head so you can see her better. You try to shy away when light from the nearby street lamp hits your eyes, but her hand stops you. "I need to see that cut on your head. It's alright, Millie."

You hadn't noticed a cut. You run your fingers along your forehead, and the sudden stinging pain that ignites when you feel an irregularity on your skin brings tears to your eyes. But the pain feels good. It drowns out the terror that's still sitting in your chest, waiting to overcome you again.

Rachel pulls your hand away gently. "Don't touch it, Millie. It doesn't look too deep, I don't think it'll need stitches."

You hear more footsteps coming towards you down the alley, and your muscles clench themselves again. Rachel glances behind her, then looks back to you. "It's okay, Millie, it's just the paramedics." She shifts slightly to the side as another figure crouches down beside her, and you hide your face in your arms again.

"What's your name, love?" You vaguely recognise the woman; you've seen her at other scenes. It takes you a moment to realise she's asked you a question, but by that time Rachel's answered it for you.

"Her name's Millie Brown, she's one of my PCs." The still-functioning part of your brain sees the recognition flash through the ambo's eyes, but the rest of your brain is still too scared to process it.

"Are you injured anywhere, Millie?" Once again, Rachel answers the question before your thoughts slow down enough to realise it's been asked of you.

"She has a cut on her forehead and some bruising to her wrists. Those're the only injuries I've seen."

"Okay, Millie, can you look up for me, love?" She eases your head up and you flinch away. "It's okay, I just need to look at your head." You sit rigidly still as she examines the wound, trembling slightly whenever she makes a move. "It doesn't look too bad, but we'll still have to take her to St Hugh's to get cleaned up." The medic announces after a minute. You stiffen; you don't want to go anyway. You want to stay here, curled in your corner where he can't find you.

Rachel nods at the woman's statement, though. "Okay. I have to call my inspector." She stands, and your mind floods with panic. She can't go. Please, god, don't let her go. She starts to move away, and your hand acts without your conscious though. It reaches out and grips her wrist, and she turns back to you, startled.

"Sarge…" It's the first word you've uttered since he hit you the second time, and just speaking through your torn throat brings tears to your eyes. Your voice is raw and hoarse from screaming, and the word itself is filled with pleading and terror. You don't want her to leave you alone with another stranger.

She seems to know what you're thinking. "It's okay, Millie. I'm just going to call the inspector, I'll be right here. You're alright." She eases out of your grip, but true to her word, stays close. While she pulls out her phone and dials a number, the paramedic takes your wrist gently and examines the bruises that extend about two-thirds of the way up your forearm. Your mind has calmed considerably since they found you, but you still flinch at any loud noises from the club, or when the woman makes a move you weren't expecting.

Eventually, the paramedic rocks back on her heels and offers you a hand. "Can you stand, Millie?" You shake your head. You don't want to move, you want to stay curled in your corner. "Do you want me to get the gurney?" You shake your head again, wishing the woman would just leave you alone.

"Ma'am, I've got to go. I'll call you later with an update." You hear Rachel end her call to the inspector, and then she's kneeling in front of you again. "Millie, you can't stay here. You'll be safe at the hospital, I promise. C'mon." Her voice is calm and reassuring, and her hands are gentle when she takes your arms to help you stand, so you don't resist. You do flinch when the night air hits your skin through your torn shirt, though, and you hear Rachel's sharp intake of breath. Your legs had hidden most of your body from her and the paramedic until then, and they hadn't seen how _he_ had slashed at your top to prove his point.

After recovering from her brief shock, Rachel shrugs off her jacket and wraps it around you. You aren't sure if she did it for the cold, or to shield your semi-naked form from prying eyes, but either way, wearing even part of your usual uniform makes you feel safer, more protected.

You realise that the effort of standing is beginning to make your legs shake. Rachel notices too, and gently takes your arm to support you as the paramedic leads you both back towards the mouth of the alley.

The end of the alley is organised chaos. There are people coming and going from the club, police swarming around looking for witnesses, and curious onlookers who have stopped to watch the show. The size of the crowd re-ignites your panic, and you shy closer to your sergeant. She wraps an arm protectively around your shoulder and guides you towards the ambulance, shaking her head at the officers who start to approach you.

Rachel helps you into the ambulance, and for a moment you panic when she doesn't climb in after you. The paramedic notices, and is quick to reassure you. "She's just talking to your friends out there. Don't worry, we won't leave without her."

While you want to relax at her words, your body refuses to unclench until she's proven correct and Rachel reappeared beside you. You flinch as the doors slam behind her, but she sits down beside you and holds a pad of gauze over the cut on your head at the request of the paramedic. You pay only scant attention, as your mind – no longer distracted by the pain and fear – is back in the alley, reliving your ordeal.

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**R & R?**


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Sorry this took so long, I had the worst writer's block in history. On the plus side, now I've got the plot _mostly_ mapped out in my head (though moving it from my head to paper in a form others can understand may be another matter...)**

**I would also like to thank everyone for their wonderful reviews. I was really surprised by the response this story got, and it's good to know people are enjoying it.  
**

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Chapter Three

After helping Millie into the ambulance, Rachel very nearly gave in to her overwhelming urge to turn and let her body sink back against the ambulance. Seeing her normally bright, cheerful constable left in that state had shaken her badly, and the temptation to find a quiet corner and simply shut out the world was, at that moment, difficult to resist. But Rachel knew that wasn't an option; there was too much that required her attention.

She caught sight of Tony weaving his way through the crowd and waved him over. The constable had an uncharacteristically grim look on his face as he approached her. "Sarge?"

"Tony, can you call Smithy and get him to come and take over here? I have to go to the hospital."

"Yes Sarge." She smiled briefly at him in thanks, but he didn't move away immediately. "Sarge…is it true Millie's the victim?"

Rachel sighed and rubbed a hand across her eyes. She'd told Arun to keep that to himself, an order the constable had obviously ignored. Tony caught the irritation in her gesture.

"Arun was pretty shook up, Sarge; I don't think he meant to say…"

She waved away his explanation. "No, it's okay." The sergeant exhaled heavily again, mentally trying to keep track of the growing list of priorities in her head, a task made difficult not only by the barely controlled chaos surrounding her, but also the fact that a large portion of her mind was preoccupied with worrying about Millie.

Her train of thought was interrupted by Tony. "How bad is she, Sarge?"

"She's….I'm not sure. Physically, she's got some cuts and bruises. Mentally…." The sergeant trailed off, remembering the look of utter terror in Millie's eyes when she'd grabbed Rachel's wrist. It had taken everything the sergeant had to move away from her after that look; she had wanted desperately to embrace the frightened woman, to tell her that everything was going to be okay.

Rachel shook her head, trying to get her mind back to the task at hand. There would be time for her to deal with the emotions later. Right now, she had to be a sergeant. "When Smithy gets here, would you let him know that I've called Inspector Gold? And get Eddie down here; get him to start processing the scene. I'll get her clothes when we get to the hospital."

"Yes Sarge."

Rachel caught sight of Arun out of the corner of her eye. "And keep an eye on Arun for me. Make sure he's coping."

Tony nodded. "I'll take care of it, Sarge. You just go make sure Millie's okay."

She smiled gratefully at him before climbing into the ambulance. Tony shut the door behind her, causing Millie to flinch violently. The red-haired PC visibly relaxed, though, when her eyes landed on Rachel, who moved quickly to sit beside her as the paramedic told the driver to go.

Once they were moving, the paramedic handed Rachel a pad of gauze and asked her to tend to Millie's head wound. Having seen the constable's reaction to anyone other than her, Rachel complied without an argument.

As they drew closer to the hospital, Rachel became more concerned with Millie's lack of response. The constable hadn't moved since the ambulance had left the scene, and her eyes were glassy, staring beyond the sergeant at something only she could see. She hadn't flinched when Rachel has cleaned the wound on her forehead, and her unresponsiveness had continued throughout the journey.

In fact, the only reaction she gave for the remainder of the drive was when the paramedic offered her a blanket in place of Rachel's jacket. Millie had shaken her head vigorously and pulled the dark material more tightly around her body, pressing herself against the seat she was sitting in. The paramedic, surprised by the force of Millie's reaction, backed off, and Rachel was content not to push the issue. The angry red lines of shallow knife wounds under the shredded remains of the constable's shirt weren't something she wanted to see again if she could help it.

Once the ambulance arrived at St Hugh's, the paramedic quickly climbed out, leaving it to Rachel to persuade Millie to follow her. The constable still seemed absent and unaware of what was going on around her, and at first she didn't respond when Rachel softly called her name. When the sergeant laid a hand on her shoulder, however, she jumped and her eyes refocused, scanning wildly around before settling on Rachel.

"We're at the hospital, Millie. Let's get you inside, okay?" Rachel helped the frightened woman out of the ambulance, then guided her towards the entrance to A&E where the paramedic was waiting.

She led the two officers to a private room, something Rachel was grateful for. Millie hadn't reacted well to the packed emergency room, shying towards her sergeant every time someone came within a few feet of her, and Rachel knew she'd cope far better away from the crowds. The paramedic left, then returned a few moments later with a nurse and a doctor, both female, who set about examining the constable. Rachel made the usual request for Millie's clothing to be preserved as evidence, and the nurse left, then reappeared with a standard-issue hospital gown.

Millie exchanged most of her clothing without any reaction, but again refused to give up Rachel's jacket, wrapping it around herself over the hospital gown. The nurse wasn't happy about it, but since it was unlikely to have any forensics on it, Rachel had no problem letting the constable keep it for the time being. She'd stayed with Millie while she'd changed, at the constable's request, and after seeing the thin cuts that littered her body and the scenario they suggested, the sergeant was happy to give Millie anything that provided her even a modicum of security.

After a while, the nurses left the two officers alone with orders that Rachel was to let Millie rest. Millie sat on the edge of the bed in a position similar to when Rachel had found her, with her knees drawn up to her chest and her arms wrapped around them. She hadn't spoken a word the entire time, instead answering the nurse and doctor with a nod or shake of her head. They had concluded that physically, the constable had no major injuries, just bruises and cuts, and that the wounds to her torso would heal in time with little scarring. Mentally, however, they weren't so sure. They'd told the sergeant that Millie was probably in shock, and they'd held off on doing the more invasive tests until she was more stable. They'd requested that Rachel stay with her, saying that it was unwise for Millie to be alone, and the constable would be far more comfortable with someone she knew and trusted. They'd given Millie a sedative to help her sleep, but had warned Rachel that it might take a little while to kick in. Then they'd left.

The silence stretched on for what felt like hours, interrupted only by the steady rhythm of the heart monitor. Rachel knew she should call Smithy or the inspector and tell them what was happening, but she was unwilling to leave Millie alone in her current state. The constable was still lost in the memory of what happened, and Rachel was at a loss for what to say. The things she'd been taught to say, the platitudes they'd said you were supposed to offer to victims seemed hollow and insincere, especially considering Millie had been taught exactly the same phrases. Eventually though, the sight of Millie sitting there with that vacant, empty look in her normally cheerful eyes became unbearable. The sergeant had seen that look in the eyes of far too many victims, and associating Millie with them was making her stomach lurch.

Rachel moved slowly from her position near the door to sit on the bed beside Millie. Close enough for comfort, but not so close that Millie felt crowded. The sergeant was still at a loss for what to say, so she stuck to the basics. "Millie? How're you feeling?" Rachel inwardly winced at the inadequacy of that question, though the constable barely reacted at all.

After a few moments, Millie turned her head slowly and looked directly at her sergeant. Her voice was hoarse as she spoke. "Sarge, I didn't…I couldn't…" Tears began rolling down her face as she struggled to control her voice. "He grabbed me and I couldn't…" She broke off as sobs wracked her body, and Rachel gave up on trying to stay away. She shuffled closer to the constable, and slid an arm around her shoulder, slowly enough that Millie could pull away if she wanted. She didn't though, just buried her face in Rachel's shoulder. They stayed like that, with Rachel softly murmuring comforting sounds, until Millie's body stilled as the sedatives kicked in.

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**AN: I'm not sure when the next chapter will be up, but hopefully it should be a bit quicker than this one. Reviews may help my motivation levels, though (hint hint).**


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: Apologies for the delay, I've been sick. **

**Thank you for all the wonderful reviews, the response to this story has been way better than I expected.**

**This chapter was originally much longer (it got away from me a bit), so I split it in two. Then I went back and decided I wasn't happy with most of the second half, so I'm rewriting it. It should hopefully be up in about a week.  
**

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Chapter Four

The next few hours are a jumble of disjointed images and half-formed impressions, and at times, you're not sure if you're asleep or awake. You see things through a fog: a haze of colour and music and movement; a room full of figures in black and white; a warm hand covering your own. And hovering above it all, a face. _His _face. Burned into your mind by fear.

Eventually, you feel yourself gradually swimming back into consciousness. The first thing you're aware of is the sound of voices, familiar and comforting. Then, as you shift your weight, you feel a stinging pain from the general area of your torso, then your throat as you swallow. You blearily open your eyes, but close them again quickly and groan as the harsh light stabs into them. Your fleeting look showed you two figures – one standing, one sitting – at the end of what you realise is your hospital bed. Your thoughts feel heavy and slow, as does your hand when you lift it to rub your watering eyes.

At your soft groan, the two figures stop talking, and you hear them come closer to you. You feel a hand on your shoulder, shaking you lightly. The touch is gentle, but that doesn't stop you flinching under it. "Millie? Can you hear me? Go and get a nurse." You don't think that last part was directed at you. You hear one of the figures walk away, and the sound of the door opening. "Millie, can you open your eyes for me?"

You do as she asks, because she's your sergeant and you're supposed to. The first thing you see is her face, full of concern, hovering over you. For one frightening moment, _his_ face is juxtaposed with hers, and you recoil slightly in fear. But then she smiles, and the illusion is broken.

"It's okay, Millie, you're in the hospital; you're safe. Your sister, Katie, is here; she's just gone to get a nurse. They sedated you, so you'll probably feel a bit groggy for a while."

As she speaks, you try to sit up, but her hand on your shoulder stops you.

"Try not to move too much, you might reopen the cuts." You reflexively look down to see what she's talking about, but you can't see through the gown. However, as you catch sight of the dark police jacket you're still wearing, the reality of what happened to you last night suddenly comes crashing down.

The rhythm of beeps that represent your pulse increase as the heart monitor responds to your fear. You sit up rapidly, ignoring the stinging pain from your abdomen, and shift your gaze back to the woman beside you as your stomach churns. "Sarge, I…_he_…" Your voice is raspy, barely recognisable as your own, and the sting in your throat when you talk brings tears to your eyes.

She slides her hand from your shoulder to your back and moves closer to you as you begin to tremble. "It's okay, Millie, you don't need to tell me yet. You're safe now, just try to relax." Yet despite her calming words and tone, you still instinctively shy closer to her when the door opens to admit Katie and a nurse.

The nurse looks reproachfully at Rachel as she approaches your bedside. "Sergeant, I know she's your constable, but if you're going to agitate her you'll have to leave. She needs to rest."

You shake your head at the thought of the sergeant leaving as she apologises. The nurse sniffs disapprovingly as she checks your vital signs then disconnects the heart monitor, but makes no other comment. Then she informs you that you should be able to go home later that evening and leaves with another firm reminder that you needed to rest.

Only after the nurse has gone does your sister approach you. She stops at the side of your bed and cautiously reaches for your hand. "Hiya, Mia." You smile slightly at your mother's childhood nickname for you, and you feel your heartbeat return to normal. "How're you feeling, babe?"

You shrug and look down at your joined hands. "I'm okay." You glance back up at Katie and notice that her face is arranged in its 'don't bullshit me' expression. You forgot that she could always tell when you were lying. But how do you describe what you're feeling to her when you're having trouble describing it to yourself? You decide to stick with the basics, and look back down at your hands. "I hurt."

You feel Rachel tense up through the hand that's still resting on your back, and you look up at her just in time to see a spark of anger flash through her eyes. As Katie moves closer to you and wraps her arms around you, Rachel moves away, towards where her vest, hat and equipment belt lie in a pile on the floor near the end of your bed. She crouches down and rummages through it briefly before extracting her mobile. "I should go and call the station; let them know you're awake." Your fear must show in your eyes, because she squeezes your hand gently. "It won't take long. You'll be fine." She squeezes your hand again, then releases it and hurries out of the room.

You watch the door swing shut behind her and take a deep breath, attempting to suppress your irrational panic. You've seen others react this way, clinging to the first person to comfort them after an attack, but knowing why you want your sergeant to stay so badly doesn't stop the fear that creeps into your stomach when she doesn't.

Katie draws back after a moment, and you feel her eyes on you. You can tell she wants to ask about what happened, but when she stays silent you realise that Rachel probably warned her not to. Something you're grateful for; you've been trying not to think about it since you woke up. You shift uncomfortably under your sister's gaze, and she finally speaks.

"Do you want to get changed? I brought some of your clothes." She gestures to a bag sitting on a chair in the corner that you hadn't noticed. "I met your flatmate, too. She said she feels guilty as hell for leaving you at the club."

You shake your head as you shuffle out of the bed. That wasn't right; she shouldn't feel guilty. It was your own stupid fault, not hers.

You stand tentatively, ensuring your legs will support you before putting your weight on them fully. Once you're satisfied you're not going to collapse, you move over to where Katie is retrieving your clothes from the bag.

You pull the pants on under the gown first, before reluctantly taking off Rachel's jacket and laying it over the back of the chair. You feel a rush of cold that's only partly to do with the temperature, and hastily raise your arms to pull the gown off. As you do, however, the harsh white light throws the rainbow of bruises on your arm into sharp relief. It's the first time you've seen them properly, and for a minute you stand transfixed by the patterns they've created on your skin, feeling the nausea rising in your throat.

"Millie?"

You snap out of it as Katie says your name, and continue what you were doing, almost ripping the hospital gown from your body, revealing a white bandage wrapped around your abdomen. You stare at it, curious as to what's under it but at the same time afraid to find out. Katie nudges you with the shirt she's holding and you look up, catching sight of your reflection in the darkened window. You don't recognise yourself at first, seeing instead a pale stranger staring back at you with wide eyes.

You take a step towards the reflection, unable to accept that it's you. She looks too small, too vulnerable. You start to tremble as she mimics your actions, and your brain accepts that she really is you. You start to back away from that pale figure, causing you to bump into Katie. She turns, and sees your reaction to what you're seeing.

"Oh, Millie…"

She wraps her arms around you, turning you so you're not facing the window. She holds you for a while, then steps back and hands you your shirt. You tug it on over your head, hiding the bandage from view, then reach for the police jacket.

You pull Rachel's jacket on over the short-sleeved shirt, telling yourself that it's to hide the bruises on your arms, not because you're still relying on the comfort that wearing part of the usually cumbersome uniform is affording you. Katie gives you a strange look as you wrap the dark material around yourself, but she doesn't say anything.

You settle back into the bed as your sister drapes the hospital gown over the chair in the corner. Then she comes back and sits on the bed beside you.

"Budge up, babe." Katie nudges you slightly and you feel a small smile creep onto your face as you shift over in the bed, allowing her to lie next to you like you did when you were children if one of you was hurt or scared. It's appropriate, because right now, you're both.

You stay like that, not talking, just taking comfort in Katie's presence until a woman pushes through the door. She introduces herself to you as your doctor, then sets about checking your wounds. She checks the cut on your head and the bruises on your wrists first, before asking permission to check the cuts on your body. You nod hesitantly, and she reassures you that she won't do anything you don't want her to as she gently lifts the hem of your shirt and unwinds the bandage that wraps around your stomach.

You tremble when the cold air hits your skin, and Katie takes your hand. At first, you focus your eyes on the far side of the room, trying to gather the courage to look down and see what _he_ inflicted on you. But at Katie's soft gasp, you look down instinctively. And then wish you hadn't.

Your abdomen is covered in dozens of angry red lines marring your once-perfect skin. Some of the large cuts are pulled together by steri-strips, but most are uncovered. You feel bile rise in your throat, but you're unable to look away from the almost hypnotic pattern they form across your stomach. _He_ marked you, just as he said he would. As that realisation hits you, your stomach heaves violently. "I'm gunna be sick." You mutter quickly, before clamping your mouth shut and swallowing to try to stop it. The doctor reacts quickly, but still only just manages to get a pan in front of you before the bile burns its way up your throat. You dry retch a few more times, but your stomach is empty.

Katie hands you a cup of water from your beside table as the doctor wraps a fresh bandage around your body. "The cuts are healing well. Most of them probably won't scar, but try to keep them clean and don't scratch. I want to keep you in for a few more hours for observation, just to make sure that cut on your head hasn't left any nasty surprises, but after that you should be good to go. Try and get some sleep, okay? Get the nurse to page me if you have any questions."

You nod, then clear your throat. "When can I go back to work?"

You almost feel Katie roll her eyes as the doctor answers. "Barring any complications from the head trauma, you should be fine to go back in a couple of days, as long as you take it easy."

You nod and thank her before you slide back down the bed, wriggling slightly to find a comfortable position as the doctor leaves. Katie lies beside you again, and slides her arm under your shoulders in a kind of half hug, mimicking the way you used to hold her when she had nightmares. The warmth of the embrace almost lulls you to sleep, but Katie's voice rouses you after a few minutes.

You feel her fingers tracing the numbers on the epaulette of the jacket. "Hang on, stripes means Sergeant, right? You get a promotion you forgot to tell me about, Mils?"

You smile and shake your head at her question. "It's not mine, it's my sergeant's."

"Well the stripes suit you, that's all I'm saying."

You smile again, and fall back into a comfortable silence before you slowly drift to sleep.

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**Please review?**


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: Okay, I'm going to stop giving deadlines for follwoing chapters, 'coz they're making me a liar. Again with the apologies for the lagginess of the chapter, I kept getting stuck and rewriting it. Next one could take a while.**

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Chapter Five

After she left Millie's room, Rachel headed down to the ground floor and out the front, opting for the stairs instead of the elevator in the hope that the walking might calm her somewhat. The reason she'd given for leaving the constable's room had been true, but not complete. Seeing Millie – usually bright, cheerful Millie – left for dead in that alleyway had ignited a burning anger in the sergeant, an anger that had only grown when she'd seen the extent of her constable's injuries. Rachel had done her best to hide her fury, remembering the nurses' stern warnings about Millie needing to rest, as well as being mindful of the need to appear professional in front of Katie, but the sergeant had spent much of the time the constable was unconscious pacing restlessly around the room.

"_I hurt."_

Those two, simple words had been the tipping point. Hearing the constable sum up the entirety of what she must be feeling with those five letters had been like a knife to the gut, and the sergeant had known she had to get out of the room before her calm façade crumbled.

Rachel sunk down on a bench just outside the entrance and leant forward, resting her head in her hands. She uncovered her eyes briefly to check her watch, and noted that her shift had ended several hours ago, which would explain the undercurrent of weariness that was flowing beneath her anger. She took a deep breath and rubbed her eyes slowly, trying to relax.

Once Rachel felt she'd calmed down sufficiently, she retrieved her phone from her pocket and dialled Gina Gold's number. She gave the inspector a brief recap of what the doctors had told her, and informed her that Millie was awake. Gina told her she'd send someone from CID over, then, after extracting assurances from Rachel that the sergeant was okay, hung up.

As she slipped her phone back into her pocket, Rachel caught sight of a streak of blood on her sleeve that she hadn't noticed before. Millie's blood. The sergeant stared down at it for a moment, entranced by the stark contrast of red on white, before she began scratching at it with her thumbnail. There wasn't any real enthusiasm in the movement; it was more something to do with her hands while her thoughts took over her concentration, which itself was just a distraction from the helpless anger she was feeling on her constable's behalf.

The sergeant wasn't sure how long she sat like that before two familiar voices floated to her ears. She glanced up to see two equally familiar figures striding across the car park. She stood as Max and Jo caught sight of her, and shook the sleeve of her jumper down over the cuff of her shirt so it hid the blood as they approached. She frowned inwardly as they exchanged greetings; Max's lack of sensitivity was well documented, but someone had obviously thought he was the right choice so Rachel let it go.

"How is she?" Jo questioned, once they'd begun to walk toward Millie's room.

"Shaken." Rachel did her best to disconnect, to try to pretend that this was just another victim. "She doesn't have any major injuries, and the rape kit showed no signs of sexual assault." Both her colleagues let out a quiet breath of relief at that. Rachel didn't blame them; that had been her reaction as well. "Do we know what it was yet? Mugging gone wrong?"

Jo shook her head. "Eddie says he found her mobile and wallet at the scene, there was still money in it."

"We're hoping Millie can shed some light on this, 'coz at the moment, we don't have much to go on." Max added, and Rachel had the sudden and unexpected urge to protest questioning the constable so soon, but her logical side quickly overrode it. They needed to find out what happened, the sooner the better.

"You look exhausted, Sarge, if you don't mind me saying." Jo commented as they rode the elevator up to the appropriate floor. "Have you been here since they brought her in?"

"Yeah." Rachel had been unwilling to leave the constable, even after her sister had shown up, until she was satisfied that Millie really was okay. She saw Jo check her watch then shoot her a surprised look out of the corner of her eye, and was thankful that they drew up outside Millie's room before the inquisitive DC could ask any more questions. That interrogation would have led to questions about what motivated her apparent dedication, and Rachel had yet to answer that to herself, let alone anyone else.

"This is it." Rachel stopped outside the door to her constable's room and peered in through the window. Katie was lying next to Millie on the bed with an arm around her shoulders. The PC appeared to be sleeping, but her sister was staring up at the ceiling with a murderous expression.

"Her sister Katie is with her." Rachel told the two CID officers. "She's angry, so tread carefully." She wanted to add more, to tell them to be gentle with her constable, but she bit it back. They knew what they were doing.

The sergeant pushed slowly through the door, trying not to startle Millie, but her eyes shot open at the noise and she shied away from the newcomers. She seemed to shrink under the detective's scrutiny, and she refused to meet their eye. Rachel noted that, while she had changed out of the hospital gown, the constable was still wearing the police jacket she'd wrapped around her at the scene, and that filled the sergeant with a number of emotions. The main one was renewed anger towards the bastard who had done that to the good-natured woman, but there were also a number of others she felt too drained to analyse.

Katie gently extracted her arm from around Millie's shoulder and sat up, hiding her sister from view. "Who're they?" Her question was aimed at Rachel, and her voice held a trace of protective hostility.

"Katie, this is DS Max Carter and DC Jo Masters. They work at Sun Hill with us." Rachel turned to the detectives as they both moved to shake Katie's hand. "This is Katie Brown, Millie's sister."

Katie eyed them for a moment before shifting from her protective stance, allowing the officers to see Millie. The constable shifted uncomfortably under their gaze as Jo moved forward. Max began to follow her, but Rachel stopped him with a hand on his arm, remembering how Millie had reacted to Arun when they'd found her.

"Millie, how're you feeling?" Jo questioned as she drew closer. Millie answered with a non-committal shrug, and Max shuffled forward slightly.

"Katie, why don't you and me go grab a coffee?" Katie eyed him suspiciously, and she looked unwilling to leave her sister. But Millie murmured something in her ear, and she reluctantly slid off the bed.

"Fine. But you're paying."

Jo shot Max an amused glance as he led Katie from the room, then moved to sit in the chair at Millie's bedside. "Do you think you're up to taking us through what happened, sweetheart?"

Millie nodded, and Rachel moved around the bed to stand beside her, surprised by the fierce protectiveness she felt for her constable. "We can do it another time, if you don't feel up to it."

The woman on the bed shook her head gently. "No, I'm fine." Despite her words, she still drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, before taking a deep breath, then beginning to speak in a low monotone. That detached tone in her voice and the hollow look in her eye made the story she told that much more haunting.

**…**

Her flatmate had dragged her out to the Andromeda Bar to celebrate a friend's promotion. She had met some friends from school there, and spent most of the night with them. Shortly before they'd left, though, she'd met him. He told her his name was Jake, and he had been charming at first. He had seemed genuinely interested in her. They'd moved to the quietest corner of the club they could find, and spent almost an hour talking comfortably, and she hadn't noticed the number of drinks he'd bought her. Eventually, nature called, and she made her way towards the bathrooms at the back of the club. Jake met her in the corridor on the way back, and it was there that it went wrong.

He'd told her that he hadn't been completely honest with her, and that he was sorry because she seemed like a really nice girl.

She had started to look around for an escape route at that point, but the alcohol she'd consumed was making it difficult for her to focus as he continued.

He explained that he was asked to come and talk to her by a guy. He said he'd wanted Jake to get her to go out to the alley, and that he was very keen to talk to her.

That had put her sense on high alert, but by then it was too late. The alcohol had dulled her reflexes, and before she could react, he had grabbed her and started dragging her towards the door that led to the alley. His hand had clamped over her mouth to muffle her screams, and his hands held her in a vice-like grip that she couldn't escape from, no matter how much she struggled.

He managed to drag her to a fire door that led outside. He pulled her further down the alley, away from the street, and she heard another set of footsteps over the muffled music from the club.

_He_ had congratulated Jake on a job well done. Her training, rational thought, everything deserted her as pure terror flooded her veins when she heard _him._ She'd fought harder to escape, but Jake was taller and stronger than her.

Then she stopped struggling as she noticed the gleam of a knife in _his_ hand. Jake had protested when he saw the knife, saying that he'd had promised he wouldn't hurt her, but he reassured him that it was just insurance.

He stopped in front of her and ran a finger down her cheek, and she made another effort to shake Jake off her. _He_ had warned her to stop struggling as he gripped her arm, ignoring the shudder that went through her body as he touched her. Then he told Jake that his services were no longer required.

Jake had hesitantly let her go, and she tried to push herself away from both of them. His grip on her arm had been too strong, though, and he pulled her back towards him and pressed the knife to her skin as Jake almost ran to the mouth of the alley and disappeared.

He had warned her again to stop struggling, and pressed the blade against her skin to prove his point. She had plead with him to let her go, ignoring the slap across her cheek and the warning to be quiet. Then he had lost his temper.

He'd slapped her again, hard, and this time let her fall against the dumpster behind her, where she struck her head. She'd stumbled, woozy, and he'd caught her again and pushed her to the ground.

She struggled as he hovered over her, but stilled as he'd slid the flat of the blade along her throat.

"I could have you, my rose." He'd told her, and his hand had strayed to her belt. "But memories fade. Scars never fade. I will mark you, my rose." Then he had shifted his weight, pinning her down with a knee across her thighs and an arm across her throat.

**…**

Millie began to sob at that point in the retelling, making her words almost unintelligible, but the implication was clear. Sometime during the story, Rachel had sat down beside Millie on the bed, and now she took advantage of that position to pull Millie into a hug that the constable didn't resist.

"Shh, Millie, it's alright." Rachel could feel Millie shaking as she held her, and when the door opened suddenly, she jumped so violently she almost fell off the bed.

"You said you weren't gunna upset her!" Katie rushed into the room, followed by Max, and moved to sit on the other side of her sister. She brushed the hair from her face and gripped her hand, and Millie raised her head from where she'd buried it in her sergeant's shirt.

Her sobs reduced to hitching breaths, and Millie spoke again. "I'm fine; I'm sorry, I just…He…"

"It's okay, Millie, we can do the rest later." Jo reassured her. Katie turned her head to glare at both detectives, who got the unspoken message. "We should let you get some rest. We'll keep you in the loop, yeah?"

Millie nodded, and Jo stood.

"Do you need a lift back to the station, Rachel?" Max offered as both CID officers moved towards the door.

Rachel looked between the detectives and Millie, reluctant to leave the constable but unable to think up a justification for staying. Her emotions and logic were at war in her head. On the one hand, she wanted to stay and see for herself that her constable was okay, but her logical side was telling her that the best thing she could do for Millie was to get back to the station and catch the son of a bitch that did this to her.

Eventually, logic won – if only just – but she couldn't leave without being sure. "Will you be okay?" she questioned her constable. "I have to get back to work."

Millie nodded mutely, but Rachel caught the flash of fear in her eyes as she stood. The sergeant squeezed her shoulder gently, then followed Max and Jo out of the room before her resolve weakened.

"You sure you're alright, Sarge?" Jo questioned her as Rachel paused outside the room to rub a hand across her eyes.

Rachel looked up and smiled wearily as she started walking again. "I'm fine. Thanks."

Rachel felt totally drained as she followed the detectives back to their car. She knew she should feel better now that they had something to go on, a target for her anger, but instead the sergeant just felt numb.

She dropped into the back seat and let her head fall back against the headrest as Jo relayed to Max what Millie had said. The detectives began exchanging theories as they drove back to the station, but Rachel tuned them out. She felt too tired to theorise, and trying to marshal her thoughts into any sort of order felt beyond her. When they realised that she wasn't paying any attention to their conversation, Max and Jo lowered their voices, allowing the sergeant to slip into a mindless haze that was probably the closest thing she was going to get to sleep for a while.

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**Still not entirely happy with the flashback, but let me know what you think.**


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: Woo, I'm back! Okay, so firstly I'd like to offer a thousand apologies for the delay with this chapter. A combination of starting TAFE, a death in the family and a whole bunch of other stuff all added up to make my life a huge puddle of blegh for a while, so I didn't have much time or inspiration to write. It's calmed down now (I hope), so I should have more of both and hopefully the next chapter won't take as long.**

**Secondly, I'd like to thank all my reviewers. You guys all motivate me to write more, and your reviews were an brilliant pick-me-up when I was feeling crappy. So thank you for that.**

**Thirdly, this will be the last chapter from Millie's perspective for a while. Not the last in the story, but I won't be alternating chapters any more, for a couple of reasons. Partly because switching tense and perspective was confusing the hell outta me when I was writing, but mostly because (without being too spoilery) it's hard to keep a sense of dramatic tension if you're in the head of a character who may or may not know more than she's saying.**

**Forthly, apologies for the shortness of this one. The aformentioned puddle of blegh is to blame, but the next one should be longer.  
**

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Chapter Six

The doctor, true to her word, returns a few hours later with your discharge papers. She insists on checking you over one more time before letting you sign them, and leaves you with some painkillers and a stern warning to take it easy, and to come back in if you feel light-headed or nauseous.

Once all the necessary forms are filled out, Katie escorts you from the room and down to her car. You do your best to ignore the strange looks you get on the way, knowing they're probably due to what you're wearing, but the scrutiny does make you decidedly uncomfortable. You feel yourself flinch towards your sister if anyone other than her gets too close, despite your attempts to keep still, and while you know that an exaggerated startle reflex is common after what you went through, you still wish your body would stop displaying your lingering fear so blatantly. You hate that you can't prevent it; every involuntary twitch feels like another shred of control that he took from you.

You're relieved when you finally reach Katie's car, and you quickly climb into the passenger's seat. You feel far more secure once the door closes, shutting out the rest of the world.

You twitch slightly when Katie opens the driver's side door and drops into the seat, but she doesn't react to it. She slides the key into the ignition, but doesn't turn it. "Why don't you come and stay with me for a while? I can tell my boyfriend to clear off for a couple of weeks, he'll understand."

While you appreciate her offer, you decline politely. You tell yourself it's because you don't want to inconvenience anybody, but deep down you know it's because you need the comfort of familiarity right now. Katie seems to recognise that on some level, and doesn't push you to accept her offer.

The drive to your flat is silent, and you spend most of the trip watching the last of the sunlight fade from the horizon. You wince occasionally as the seat belt presses against your stomach, but the painkillers they gave you haven't worn off yet, so it's more uncomfortable than painful.

Katie pulls up outside your flat, and it takes you a moment to gather the courage to open the door and get out into the world again. You'd felt safe in the car; your little _him_-free bubble.

By the time you get out, Katie's collected your bag from the boot and is waiting for you. She doesn't mention your hesitation, just wraps an arm around your waist and guides you towards the front door.

It's not until you reach the door to your flat that you realise you don't know where your keys are. Or the rest of the things you left in the club, for that matter. You look around a Katie, and she realises why you've stopped.

"Oh, keys. Don't worry, babe, I've got the spare you gave me." She rummages through her handbag briefly and extracts a set of keys. "That sergeant woman, Rachel? She said they found your stuff in the club, but it's evidence."

You nod mechanically, trying to suppress the strange feeling in your stomach at your possessions being 'evidence' as Katie unlocks the door and steps aside to let you in.

You're just through the door when a movement in the corner of your eye makes you jump. But it's just your flatmate, Kelly, coming towards you.

"Mille! My god, are you okay?" She stops when she sees your face and the bruises and cuts that adorn it, but then continues forward at a slower pace. She reaches out a hand, as if to draw you into a hug, but stops short of actually touching you.

You're pleasantly surprised, however, to find that she apparently falls under the category of 'people your body isn't afraid of', and you step forward, pulling her into the embrace she was reluctant to initiate.

"Millie, I'm so sorry I left you!" She cries into your shoulder. "I thought you were with your friends, if I'd known…"

"It's okay, Kel. Honest. It wasn't your fault." You can't let her keep feeling guilty. It wasn't her fault, it was yours.

Her expression when you draw apart tells you that while she accepts your forgiveness, she still feels responsible. "Yeah, um, anyway, I'm going to stay with my parents for a few days tomorrow. My dad's not well. Katie's welcome to my room while I'm gone, I'll change the sheet before I leave."

Katie starts nodding before Kelly has finished speaking, which makes you think that this arrangement had been pre-discussed, but you feel too drained to call them on it so you just nod.

You leave them to sort out the details and head to your room. You close the door behind yourself, then turn and lean against it. It's the first time you've been alone since Rachel found you, and you take a minute to get a grip on your suddenly active fight-or-flight reflex, breathing in and out slowly.

Once you feel yourself calm down, you hunt out your pyjamas and begin to change into them. You're reluctant to remove the police jacket again, but you lay it at the end of the bed before you climb in, keeping it close. You're not sure what it is about the dark item of clothing that eases your fear, but at this point, you're willing to take any comfort you can get.

Just as you're slipping under the covers, a knock on the door makes you jump, and it opens slowly. "Millie?" It's Katie. "You going to bed already?"

You nod. Even though it's relatively early, you feel drained.

"Well, I'll be out on the couch if you need anything, babe. Sleep well."

You smile and thank her as she flicks off the light. The instant she shuts the door and blocks out any remaining light, however, you know you won't be able to sleep and you call her back. "Katie? Could you leave the door open a bit? And the light on out there?" She smiles in understanding, and does as you ask.

You shuffle back under the covers as she disappears from view again, and you close your eyes. Sleep, however, eludes you, for you find that even though you were struggling to keep your eyes open only moments ago, now you're restless and unable to keep still. You twitch at every tiny sound, and when you open your eyes again, you find that – while they're better than the total darkness of before – the shadows cast by the light of the hallway loom over you, making your heart race.

After a few minutes of tossing and turning, flinching at every sound, you reach down and draw your sergeant's jacket up to rest over your torso above the covers. It helps a little, but it's still takes a long time for you to settle.

You eventually drift off to sleep, but unlike the slumber at the hospital, which were induced by drugs or sheer exhaustion, this sleep is plagued by nightmares. Each time you wake, screaming and struggling to escape him, brings Katie rushing into your room, though after the third time, she gives up on the couch and simply slips under the covers with you. Her closeness comforts you, but it still doesn't stop him stalking through your dreams, his face growing more and more demonic each time.

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**AN: Reviews are much appreciated. And thank you to the readers who haven't abandon this story 'cos I was taking too long. =)**


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: Wow, it has been way too long since I updated this. I do have excuses, but they're long and boring and beside the point. **

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Chapter Seven

It was the familiar sound of the gates opening that woke Rachel from her reverie. She blinked and shook her head gently as Max guided the car to a stop between two IRVs, then followed him and Jo across the yard, trying to shake her mind back into wakefulness. Once they got inside, the detectives disappeared upstairs while Rachel went to the locker room to change out of her bloodstained shirt. She lingered there briefly, lowering herself onto a bench and rubbing a hand down her face, once again resisting the urge to crawl into a corner and block out the world. She stayed like that until the sound of a door slamming jerked her thoughts back to the present. Rachel shook her head gently as she rose and checked her appearance in the mirror, fixing her tie and ensuring that her sergeant mask was back in place before leaving the room. Then, on a hunch, she went looking for Arun.

She found him with Roger in one of the writing rooms, watching CCTV from the Andromeda Bar. The younger constable was rubbing his eyes when the sergeant entered, but when he saw Rachel, he stood.

"Sarge. How's Millie?"

"She'll be okay. She's being discharged in a few hours, and her sister's with her. Have you got anything from the CCTV yet?"

"Nothing yet, Sarge." He sat down again, and unfroze the image of the street in front of the club. "This is from a council camera across the street; it shows the entrance to the alley. There's no coverage of where the attack took place, but we're hoping we might see someone leaving. The crowds are making it hard, though." His voice faltered as he said 'attack', and when he rubbed his eyes again, Rachel realised that he'd been on shift since the previous evening. There were four empty coffee cups sitting beside the computer he was working at, and Rachel could tell from the slightly glazed look in his eyes that he was worn-out.

"Arun, why don't you go home, get some rest."

"I'm fine, Sarge."

"If you exhaust yourself, you'll be no good to anyone. Go home and sleep." That time it was closer to an order than a suggestion, and Arun seemed to realise that. He started to protest again, but Rachel held up a hand to halt him before pointing towards the door. She felt slightly hypocritical sending him home when she had no intention of following her own advice, but looking after her constables was her job. Her welfare, on the other hand, was hers to ignore as she wished.

"I've been trying to get him to leave for ages." Roger commented as the door swung shut behind Arun. "He's been yawning every thirty seconds for the past hour."

"How long has he been here?"

Roger shrugged. "Not sure, Sarge. Stone kicked him off cordon duty around lunchtime, and he's been hiding from the inspector since then. He's been dodging her since she sent the rest of the nightshift home. She had to twist a few arms to manage that."

Rachel made a mental note to avoid Gina as she dropped the empty coffee cups Arun had left behind in the bin.

"Maybe you should go home too, Sarge." Roger suggested. "You've been on shift as long as Arun has."

She shook her head lightly, suppressing a yawn. "I'm fine. What've you got?" She moved to stand behind him so she could see his screen, where he had the CCTV of the interior of the Andromeda Bar. The current shot covered the bar and part of the dance floor.

"I've got Millie entering the club with an unidentified female just after nine."

Rachel nodded. "Her flatmate. CID are looking for her."

Roger made a note on the pad of paper in front of him, then continued. "Millie stays with her for a while, then joins this group." He pointed to a group of women standing by the bar. "Then they move to the dance floor and we lose her in the crowd." He rewound and paused the recording before swivelling to look up at the sergeant.

"She said she met some friends from school, and just before they left she was approached by another guy." Rachel told him. "They got talking, and she spent almost an hour with him before he forced her out to the alley where he handed her to a second, as yet unidentified male."

Roger flinched slightly, but Rachel surprised herself with how detached she sounded as she described Millie's ordeal. She stared at the image on the monitor. Millie was laughing at her flatmate, who was playfully dragging her towards the dance floor. Her expression was full of joy, and it made Rachel sick to think that just hours after that carefree moment, the young constable would be curled in an alley, bruised, bleeding and terrified.

"So we're looking for that man and anyone who might be able to ID him." Rachel finished, swallowing the bile rising in her throat.

Roger nodded and unfroze the image as Rachel moved over towards the other computer and sunk into Arun's vacated chair. She leant forward for a moment and covered her face with her hands, rubbing her eyes and trying to ignore how good it felt to close them, how easy it would be to stay like that and just drift away….

"You sure you don't wanna go home, Sarge?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." She murmured for what felt like the hundredth time, shaking herself back to alertness.

The older constable studied her for a moment, then seemed to resign himself to her stubbornness as she began tapping at the keyboard, rewinding the recording. "Do you want a coffee?"

…

About half an hour later, the inspector finally caught up with Rachel as the sergeant was on her way back from the bathroom. "Oi. What're you still doing here?"

Rachel was half way through a yawn when she asked, so her answer was incomprehensible.

"What?"

"Sorry, Ma'am. I'm going over the CCTV with Roger.

"Have you had any sleep since yesterday?" There was concern in the inspector's eyes as she asked.

"I slept at the hospital." Rachel lied, trying to keep the fatigue she felt from her face and tone.

Judging by the perceptive look on Gina's face, she hadn't succeeded. "You should go home, Rachel. You look terrible. And I mean that in the nicest possible way." She added as the sergeant smiled wryly. "You need sleep. You'll be no use to anyone, especially Millie, if you're exhausted." The way she said it suggested Gina had had this argument several times already, and the fact that she herself had used that exact line on Arun was not lost on the sergeant.

"No, Ma'am, I'm fine, honest…" Rachel's protests were cut off by yet another yawn, and the inspector rolled her eyes.

"I rest my case. Get changed and I'll find someone to take you home; you're in no state to drive."

…

With nothing to focus her remaining energy on, Rachel quickly succumbed to the crushing wave of exhaustion looming over her, and looking back later, she couldn't remember who had driven her home that evening. He – she was fairly sure it had been a he – had walked her to her door, ignoring her fatigued protests. He'd told her he'd get someone to drop her car back later, then, after extracting an assurance that she didn't need a babysitter, he'd left, leaving Rachel to stagger upstairs to her bedroom.

She changed out of her clothes mechanically before climbing into bed. She lay there, staring up at the faint pattern of shadows on ceiling and feeling the weariness tug at her eyelids, but unable to clear her mind enough to sleep. When she did eventually succumb to the exhaustion, the sleep was restless, and her dreams were filled with shadowy figures, some taunting her and others crying for help.

…

"Did you get any sleep last night?"

Rachel glanced up from her computer screen as Smithy took a seat at the desk opposite hers and smiled grimly. "Depends on how you define 'sleep'." She'd woken feeling like her eyes were made of sandpaper, and she was sure she didn't look much better than she felt. "Where are we at?" She asked, ignoring the concern in his eyes.

"We got a screen grab of our suspect from the club, but we never get a good enough angle to run it through facial recognition. He's talking to a barman, though, so we were about to head over to the club and see if any of the staff recognise him."

The blond sergeant nodded, trying to process the rapid influx of information through the haze of fatigue as Smithy slid the photos across the desks to her.

"Do you want to come with me?"

Rachel glanced at him, surprised. She was sure that, under the circumstances, CID would've insisted that uniform have no involvement in the case, but the detectives had either not got around to telling them that, or Smithy – and therefore, the inspector – had decided to ignore them. Either way, Rachel nodded and followed her colleague to the yard, fumbling slightly with the clip of her belt and the zipper of her vest. If Smithy noticed her less-than-coordinated movements, he didn't mention it.

…

The scene the two sergeants pulled up to was wildly different to the one Rachel had arrived at two nights ago. The Andromeda bar looked different in the light of day, less dangerous. Seeing it in the sunlight seemed wrong somehow, and neon signs that looked good at night now just seemed tacky. The image was made even more incongruous by the crime scene tape stretched across the mouth of the alley, and CSE van still parked out the front.

Rachel paused as they passed the entrance to the alley and watched the figures dressed in blue who were doing a final sweep of the area for any evidence they may have missed. In her mind's eye, she saw the scenario Millie had described play out in front of her, and she felt the anger and bile rise in her throat once more.

"Hey, you alright?"

Rachel was jolted out of her reverie by Smithy, who had noticed she wasn't following him and had come back to check on her. The blonde sergeant nodded and started walking again, inwardly shaking herself and muttering the phrase that was quickly becoming her mantra. "Yeah, I'm fine."

The officers pushed through the front door and headed for the bar. After a cursory glance, Rachel concluded that the inside of the club also looked far better with the lights off before her attention was drawn to a man standing behind the bar.

"We're closed—Oh, it's you lot. The manager's out the back." The barman didn't look pleased to see them.

"Actually, you might be able to help us. Sergeant Smith, Sergeant Weston, Sun Hill." Smithy introduced them.

"Tim Johnson, barman. What can I do for you?"

"Can you tell us who was working the bar two nights ago?"

"Yeah, me, Jen 'n Stacy. Why?"

"Good, you're the man we want to talk to. Do you know who the man in this photo is?" Rachel slid a screen grab of the suspect across the bar.

Tim studied the photo briefly, and both sergeants caught the flash of unease that flickered across his face. "Never seen him before. We were busy as hell that night." He declared, pushing the picture away.

"Really?" The sergeant slapped the second photo on the bar in front of him, feeling her irritation and impatience rising. Her anger was already simmering close to the surface, and the barman was presenting himself as a convenient target. As a result, Rachel was far more abrupt that she may have been under other circumstances. "Because it looks like you're talking to him here. And here." A third photo joined the other two. The timestamps showed that the barman and the suspect had spoken at least three times, with one of the conversations lasting almost ten minutes. "I'm really not in the mood to be messed around today, so either tell us who he is or I arrest you for obstruction."

The barman stayed silent, and the sergeants glanced at each other briefly before Rachel shrugged and began to move around the bar, reaching for her handcuffs.

"Okay then. Tim Johnson, I'm arresting you for obstruction. You do not have to say anything—"

"Okay, okay, I know him." Tim held his hands up in surrender and backed away from the officers. "He's been in here every night for the last two weeks. His name's Jake something…Casey, Cassidy, something like that. He's sort of a regular now, so I talk to him in the slow times. Jen and Stace always said he was a creep, but damn he could be charming, too. I don't think he ever left alone." He stopped, as if trying to remember something. "Huh. Now that I think about it, he wasn't here last night."

"Right. Where can we find him?" Rachel asked, after sharing a glance with Smithy.

"I don't know. Honest!" He exclaimed, backing away slightly as Rachel's hand moved towards her handcuffs again. "Jen said he was always offering to take her back to his place, she might know. Ask her."

* * *

**AN: It took me a while to find the character's voices in my head again, and I'm not fully convinced I managed it. Let me know what you think.**


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: So a year later I'm back! Yay! Sorry for the delay.**

* * *

Chapter Eight

Jen the barmaid, the sergeants discovered once they tracked her down, knew both Mr Jake Cassidy's name and address, and she was happy to share that information on the condition that they promise to "arrest the creep". A quick check on the name revealed that their suspect was low-level crook, with some arrests for B&E, shoplifting and robbery, but nothing violent.

The barmaid's directions led Rachel and Smithy to a flat on an estate a little way from the club; an area with a reputation for having landlords happy to look the other way as long as the rent was paid on time.

They hammered on the door, but there were no signs of life from inside.

"What d'you reckon?" Smithy asked as they gave up and started back towards the car.

"Get someone in plain clothes to sit outside for a few hours. He's gotta come back some time." Rachel replied, but Smithy looked dubious.

"We've only got the barmaid's word that this is his place. We could spend hours sitting out here only to discover it belongs to some old granny out doing her shopping." They had run checks on the property on the way there, only to discover that the rent was paid in cash, and the lease agreement had been signed with a fake name. The inspector had had a rather pointed chat with the landlord about that.

"I don't think an old granny would sign the lease with 'I.P Knightly', do you?" Smithy still looked doubtful. "Jen had no reason to lie to us, and even if she did, all we lose is a few hours."

The other sergeant mulled that over briefly before conceding, and Rachel began to radio instructions back to the station as they walked.

They were almost back at the car when something caught Rachel's attention out of the corner of her eye: A figure rounding the corner, not far from where they were parked. It wasn't his appearance that caught her eye, but his behaviour. He'd come around the corner, but stopped dead at the sight of the police car and dropped the bag he'd be carrying. From the brief glance that the sergeant got, he matched both the CCTV pictures and the description Millie had given them of their suspect, Jake Cassidy.

"Smithy…" She started, getting his attention. Before she could elaborate, the man took off back the way he'd come. Rachel was after him in a heartbeat. "Oi! Come here!"

Behind her, she heard Smithy yell something, then the sirens and the skidding of tires, but paid it little mind as she ran towards the corner that Cassidy had vanished around. She spotted him again as she rounded the corner. He was almost halfway down the road and had a decent head start, but Rachel was faster. The anger, finally allowed an outlet, had mixed with adrenaline and overpowered her lingering weariness, and for those few moments, she felt lighter than she had since she'd walked into that alley.

Cassidy was almost at the end of the street when Smithy sped past her, overtaking him and swinging the car around to block his path. Cassidy tried to change direction and go around the obstacle, but the delay was enough for Rachel to catch up to him, slamming into him with enough force to dent the car.

"Whoa, easy!" Smithy said as she swung Jake to the ground and knelt on his back, pulling his arms together so she could handcuff him as she recited the caution between breaths. The other sergeant pulled both of them to their feet, ignoring Cassidy's groans of protest, and forced the suspect into the car before turning on Rachel, who was catching her breath. "You okay?" he asked, nodding towards the hand she held to her ribs.

"I'm fine." She muttered in reply, removing the hand.

"You sure?" He ran his hand over the dent in the door, scratching at a section of the fluorescent paint that had cracked slightly and whistled softly. "The inspector's not gonna be happy."

Rachel ignored him and slid back into the car, trying to calm herself. Cassidy wasn't helping. He was groaning in the back seat, doing his best to appear to be clutching his chest while handcuffed. "Uhhhnnn, I think you broke my ribs." He moaned. "I need a hospital."

"The FME will look you over when we get back to the station." Rachel replied tightly, not turning around. Her body was still amped up from the chase, and while a few deep breaths lowered her heart rate somewhat, her emotions were proving more difficult to rein in. Letting her anger surface had been a bad idea. Rachel was not, by nature, a particularly violent person, and she had never before taken pleasure in hurting anyone, suspect or not, regardless of what they had done. But the satisfaction she'd got from slamming Cassidy against the car – far more forcefully than was necessary – was visceral and undeniable. Revenge had never been something she'd had the inclination to indulge in, but in this case, her first instinct had been to hurt the man that'd had a hand in Millie's ordeal. It was troubling on many levels.

She didn't look at Smithy as he dropped into the driver's seat, though she could feel his concerned eyes on her. He took a breath, as if to say something, but changed his mind at a theatrical whimper from the back seat. Instead, he just started the car, and began manoeuvring the vehicle back to the correct position on the road.

Cassidy continued to moan softly until Smithy's irritation got the best of him and he told Jake pointedly to shut up. After that, the drive was silent, each of the occupants lost in their own private thoughts.

**…**

The suspect's head jerked up from its position on the table as the door to the interview room opened and Max sauntered in, followed closely by Smithy. The two sergeants each took a seat, and after reciting the usual introduction for the tape, Max made a great show of examining the file he was carry before tossing it carelessly on the table.

"Well, Mr Cassidy, I think congratulations are in order. It's not often one person manages to single-handedly piss off an entire police station."

"'ey?"

"Don't play dumb, Jake. It doesn't suit you." The suspect just looked blankly across the table and shrugged. Max sighed in irritation.

"Why'd you run?" Smithy asked, trying a different tactic.

"Unpaid parking tickets." He shrugged, looking unconcerned. "You know how they pile up. I've been meaning to pay them, I swear."

"You don't own a car, Jake." Smithy pointed out, exasperated, and he shrugged again.

In the observation room, Rachel was pacing back and forth behind the inspector, who stood at the window. Her torso still ached from slamming Cassidy against the car, but her frustration was making it impossible for her to stop moving.

"Rachel, stand still, you're giving me a headache." Gold finally snapped, annoyed at the constant movement behind her. The sergeant halted her pacing and moved to stand beside Gina, but her hand continued to twitch against her leg, a sign of the restless energy roiling within her.

"They're taking too long. I should be in there, I was the arresting officer." Rachel muttered.

"He's already talking about filing a complaint against you. The less contact you have with him, the better." Gina replied, with a hint of reproach in her tone.

"He's just bruised."

"That's not the point." Gold retorted. "Maybe you should take a step back from this. Let Smithy and Max handle it. Maybe you're too close."

"We're all 'too close' to this one, Ma'am. It's Millie." Rachel replied, resuming her agitated pacing. "By rights, we should've handed it off to Barton Street. Why am I any closer to it than Max or Smithy?"

"Max and Smithy aren't running around hitting people with cars." Gina replied with a pointed glance. Rachel considered mentioning that technically the suspect had hit the car all by himself, but she knew that wasn't the point. "All I'm saying is that it's not like you, Rachel. Are you sure you can handle this?"

"Yes ma'am. It won't happen again."

They both fell silent as back in the interview room, Cassidy's lawyer got fed up with the fishing. "Officers, you're wasting my client's time. Either get to the point or we're leaving."

Max shot him a glare before opening the file he'd been examining before. "Do you know this woman?" He slid a picture of Millie across the table.

Cassidy made a show of picking it up and examining it intently. "Never seen her before."

"Really? You sure?" Smithy pressed him.

"Yeah. She's hot, I'd remember." He slid the picture back across the table. "We done? I've got an excessive force complaint to make."

Max ignored him. "So this isn't you, talking to her in the Andromeda Bar two nights ago?" He asked, replacing Millie's photo with CCTV shots from the bar showing exactly that.

"Nah, can't've been—" Cassidy started, but Max ignored him and continued.

"And it isn't you who dragged her out to the alley behind the club and handed her over to the guy who did this to her?" He slapped down the pictures they'd taken of Millie's injuries at St. Hugh's, including the cuts on her body.

"What the hell, man!" Jake swore, his nonchalant facade disappearing. "Is this some kind of sick joke?" He pushed the photos away violently, going pale. "I don't know nothing about that, man."

Max stood and leant over the table, towering over the suspect as he pushed the photos back towards him. "Look at them, Jake. That's what he did to her. The doctor stopped counting the cuts once she got to twenty. Think about that. The man you gave her to sliced into her over twenty times, and you let it happen. Do you even remember her name?" Cassidy shook his head. "Her name is Millie Brown. _PC_ Millie Brown."

At the addition of Millie's title, Cassidy paled even further. "He swore he wouldn't hurt her!" Jake stood, ignoring his solicitor's hand on his arm. "I didn't know, honest. The son-of-a-bitch said he just wanted to talk to her; he promised he wouldn't hurt her."

"Sit down, Mr Cassidy." Smithy had stood when Jake did, but Max overrode him and kept talking.

"What exactly did you think he was gonna do to her, Jake? That he was gonna take the drunk girl out the back and have a nice chat about the weather? What?"

"Sit down! Now!" Smithy commanded again, this time talking to Max as much as Cassidy. The DS looked like he was about ready to fling himself at the suspect, and in the observation room, Rachel was surprised to find herself silently egging him on.

Both men sat down, though not before Max had shot his counterpart an icy glare. Once he was sure they'd both calmed down somewhat, Smithy follow suit.

"Right. Start from the beginning." He told Jake, who looked like he was ready to pass out.

"He came up to me in the club. Said that he'd had a fight with his girlfriend and he wanted to talk some sense into her, but she was avoiding him. He offer me two hundred quid if I could get her out the back. He said he was just messing around, that he just wanted to scare her a bit! I swear I didn't know he was going to hurt her. I swear." He looked across at them and saw the scepticism in the sergeants' eyes.

"Right, so a bloke comes up to you in a club, asks you to lure a woman outside, and you think it's just fun and games? You're either stupid or gullible."

"Look, it's the truth, I swear! The last thing I wanted was you guys crawling all over the place."

"Oh really? And why's that?"

"Because I was casing the joint, alright?" His lawyer began to raise an objection, but Jake overrode him. "Shut up. I didn't actually do anything yet, and I can't now, can I? Not with you lot swarming all over the place and more security on the doors. A month of work out the window."

"So you expect us to believe that you didn't do this because you were planning to rob the club?"

"Well yeah, it's basic logic, innit? The last thing I'd want when I'm planning a job is you lot poking around stirring shit up. I swear, if I'd know what that guy was gunna do to your chick, I woulda told him to shove it."

"Can you identify this man?" Smithy asked, ignoring DS Carter's scepticism.

Jake shook his head. "He never told me his name, and I never got a good look at him. He had a hoodie on. All he did was show me a photo of the chick and gave me half the money."

"Officers," his lawyer interrupted, raising a hand. "I would like a moment to confer with my client. Perhaps a short break is in order?"

The sergeants glanced at each other briefly, before Smithy acquiesced. "Fine. Interview suspended 15.58."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

"So, do we think he's telling the truth?" DI Manson asked. They were in the briefing room, and Max had just finished his recap of the interview while Jo added the information to the timeline on the whiteboard.

"I don't buy it, Guv." The DS replied. "A stranger comes up to him in a club and tells him to lure a woman outside and he does it? He's dumber than he looks if that's true."

"What do you think happened, then?"

"At the very least, he knows the guy. They probably planned it together. Maybe the other guy is a figment of his imagination, and he did it all himself."

Rachel shook her head. "Millie told us there was a second attacker, and the rest of Cassidy's story lines up with hers, more or less. Besides, surely he'd come up with a better story if he'd known what was gonna happen. He must've known we'd find him, it's not like he's trying to hide from the cameras."

"Get someone go back through the CCTV." Jo suggested. "See if we can't spot this guy talking to Cassidy."

Gina nodded. "Good idea. Roger, can you and Nate get on that?"

Roger nodded and left the room as the DI spoke up again.

"Okay, so until we prove otherwise, I think we should assume Cassidy's telling the truth. So, working on that assumption, who would have motive? Has Millie been involved in any cases that could be related?"

Rachel shook her head. She'd been asking herself that question since she sat down in the ambulance. "Nothing that would provoke such an extreme reaction. We can go back through her case files, but... she's Millie. She doesn't have that sort of effect on people."

The uniformed officers in the room were nodding in agreement, and from the corner, Sally spoke up. "It's true, Guv. She's got christmas cards off people she's arrested. I know they're not all happy with her, but I don't think she's ever pissed anyone off badly enough to do that to her."

"What about her personal life?" Jo asked.

Rachel and Smithy both looked at Sally, who shrugged. "She hasn't mentioned anything, but you're better off asking her."

The DI nodded. "Okay, so until we can speak to Millie again, our best bet is the CCTV and going through her files. Gina, can you get some people on that?"

The uniformed inspector nodded, and motioned for the uniformed officers to follow her as she left.

Jo had one last question. "What do we do with Cassidy in the meantime, Guv?"

"I say we bail him and see where he goes. He might go after Alley Man." Max suggested.

Rachel looked incredulously at her CID counterpart. "You're joking, right? You want to obbo him on the off chance he goes after a known violent offender? And that's assuming he does go after him. We could waste days waiting for something that never happens."

Max turned to the DI, appealing to his superior. "Forty-eight hours, Guv, that's all I'm asking for. Cassidy doesn't strike me as a particularly patient man. If he's gonna do anything, he'll do it quickly. We sit on him 'round the clock, see if he knows where the second guy is."

The DI mulled it over briefly before nodding. "Do it."

…

Rachel sighed and sat back, stretching the aching muscles in her neck and back. She'd been going through the files of all the cases that Millie had had a hand in, but so far hadn't found anything promising.

Smithy was out with the troops and Stone had taken her nightshifts, so Rachel had the sergeants' office to herself. Most of the relief were out on patrol, meaning that section of the station was unusually quiet. Rachel was enjoying the peace, so when it was broken by the sounds of footsteps echoing down the hall, the sergeant glanced up to see someone walk past the open door. Then looked up again, thinking that she'd been looking at case files too long and her brain was playing tricks on her. But no, as she looked out the other doorway, the same figure walked past, heading for CID.

Rachel was up in an instant, ignoring the sharp complaints from her legs after hours of inactivity.

"Millie?" she called, and the figure jumped and whipped around.

"Oh, hey Sarge." Millie muttered after she identified the speaker and relaxed. Her voice had lost the huskiness it'd had at the hospital, and she greeted the sergeant with a warm smile.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. How're you feeling?" Rachel asked as she approached. As she drew closer, she was struck with the unexpected desire to hug the redhead, but restrained it to a simple hand on her shoulder.

"I'm okay. Thanks." The constable certainly looked far better than the last time Rachel had seen her. The bruises on her arms were covered by the long-sleeve shirt she was wearing, and the cut on her forehead was covered by her hair. Her skin had returned to its usual colour, and looking at her now, seeing that she was alive, well, and recovering sent a wash of relief through the sergeant, easing tension she hadn't realised was there.

"What're you doing here?" The sergeant asked as they started walking again.

"DS Carter wanted to speak to me. Listen, Sarge…" The constable stopped walking again and turned to her sergeant. "I just wanted to thank you for what you did that night. I…"

"Don't mention it." Rachel replied softly, meeting her eye and smiling. Millie held her gaze briefly, then looked away, a slight flush rising on her cheeks. "C'mon then." Rachel murmured, once the moment had passed. "We don't want to keep DS Carter waiting."

…

The two officers pushed through the CID doors together. Most of the desks were unoccupied, and those few detectives that were there were too focused on whatever they were doing to look up. The door to the briefing room was open, and through it, the whiteboard was clearly visible, as were the pictures on it. Thankfully, Max stood from his desk, blocking their line of sight before Millie noticed what was on the board. Rachel didn't think she'd react well to seeing pictures of her injuries and the remains of her clothing.

"Millie! How're you feeling?" The DS asked as he approach. Rachel noted that he was tactful enough to stop a safe distance away, to avoid crowding the PC.

"I'm fine, Sarge. Thanks."

"That's good." He nodded, then continued. "I just wanted to ask you some questions, see if you remember anything else from your attack."

If Rachel hadn't been watching Millie as the DS spoke, she would have missed the way the constable flinched when Max said 'attack'. Mentally cursing the DS for his insensitivity, she spoke.

"Why don't we take this somewhere else so we don't disturb the others." She suggested, nodding towards the other detectives.

"The DI said we could use his office." Max offered, ushering the two women into the room, shutting the door.

"Okay, so…" Once they'd all taken a seat, Max began by giving Millie a brief outline of what they knew so far, then started asking her questions.

It didn't go well. Millie was unable to add much beyond what she'd already told them, and Max's tactlessness in the way he questioned her wasn't helping. Rachel didn't think he was being deliberately malicious, he just didn't know interact with this new, traumatised Millie, and it was frustrating him. Rachel tried to take the edge off his manner somewhat, but she knew the incipient explosion wasn't far off.

"Are you sure there's nothing else? Think hard, Millie. You know how sometimes victims block things out—"

"I'm not hiding anything, and I'm not a bloody victim, Max!" Millie reacted exactly the way Rachel predicted she would, standing up and shouting angrily at the CID officer.

"That's not what I meant. Please, just sit down." He tried to guide the constable back into her chair, but Millie was in no mood to be guided. She jerked out of Max's reach and glared at him, her brown eyes dancing with anger.

Rachel, deciding that Max had caused enough damage for one evening, intervened. "DS Carter, can I have a word?" He shot her an annoyed look, but headed for the door as Rachel gave Millie a reassuring smile. "I'll be back in a minute." She murmured before following her colleague out of the room.

Once the door had swung shut behind them, Rachel pulled the detective out into the corridor. "What are you doing?"

Now he looked perplexed as well as annoyed. "What'd you mean? I'm interviewing a witness."

"No, you're interviewing a _victim_, Max, as much as she says otherwise." Though she flinched internally at thinking of Millie as such, she was careful not to let it show. "You might want to keep that in mind."

"Look, I admire your standing up for your officers and all that, but if she knows something, I need to know what."

"And you think she's going to tell you if you push her until she breaks, is that it?"

"Of course not, but you haven't got it out of her by being nice, so…"

"Just back off, Max! You were at the hospital; you know what she went through. She doesn't need you on her case at the moment." The sergeant ignored their difference in height as she stood in front of him, eyes blazing.

"Millie should be the one who wants us to catch this guy! I think she's holding something back, and I need to know what it is!"

Their raised voices were attracting an audience, but both officers ignored the looks being directed their way through the glass pane of the doors. "_If_ she's hiding something, you're not gonna get it out of her by charging her like a bull in a china shop! She's traumatised, and you're making it worse!"

"I do know how to do my job, thank you, and I—"

"Oi! That's enough! Both of you!" Rachel and Max both took a step back as Inspector Gold's voice echoed up the stairs, but continued to glare at each other as Gina herself appeared beside them. "Now, how about the pair of you start behaving like sergeants instead of a couple of squabbling schoolchildren and tell me what's going on."

"Just a disagreement over interview technique, Ma'am." The detective began. "I was just reminding your sergeant here that as SIO, it's my decision how we conduct the interviews related to this case."

"I don't care if you're the police commissioner himself, I won't have you harassing a traumatised woman who also happens to be one of my officers!" Rachel replied angrily.

"I was not harassing her—"

"Enough!" Gold shouted, silencing both sergeants again. "Okay, both of you need to calm down and take a step back from this. I understand that emotions are running high on this case, but neither of you are doing anyone, especially Millie, any favours by behaving like children." She looked between the pair of them, expression and tone allowing no argument. "Now, you are both going to go home and get some sleep. Understood?"

"Yes, Ma'am." Neither sergeant was happy about it, but they weren't foolish enough to disobey a direct order, either.

"Good. Now that that's sorted, Rachel, can you make sure Millie gets home?" Rachel nodded. "Excellent. Well in that case, I'll see you both tomorrow. Goodnight, sergeants." Gina watched them stonily as they pushed back through the doors to CID before returning to her office.

Rachel could feel Max's angry glare on the back of her neck as he headed back over to his desk, but ignored it as she re-entered the DI's office. Max could be as angry as he liked, the inspector had agreed with her. Otherwise, Gina would've let the DS continue the interview.

Millie had calmed down enough to resume her seat, though she stood again as Rachel entered.

"Everything okay, Sarge?" she asked, concern in her tone.

"Yeah, it's fine." Rachel replied with a reassuring smile. "The inspector told me to get you home; we'll do this another time. Is your sister here, or…?"

"Katie dropped me off, but she had to go to work. Her boss is a jerk, he told her she could only take one personal day, so I told her I'd be fine. I was going to get a cab home…" The expression that flashed across the constable's face revealed how little she wanted to get into a car with a stranger, but she was quick to mask it.

Rachel saw it anyway. "I'll drop you home." She offered. "It's not far out of my way, and the inspector just ordered me home anyway."

"Are you sure? If it's a hassle I can just…"

"It's not a problem." Rachel assured her, seeing the flash of relief in her eyes before it was hidden behind her mask. There had been something else there, too, but it was gone too quickly for the sergeant to identify it.

"Thanks, Sarge."

…

The drive was mostly silent, but it was a comfortable silence. Millie appeared to be lost in her own thoughts, and Rachel was fairly sure she wasn't in the mood for random small talk.

The quiet spell ended, though, when they drove over a speed bump. Rachel winced slightly as the movement caused her seatbelt to dig into her still-tender ribs; Millie caught the subtle movement, and spoke.

"Are you okay?" At the sergeant's questioning glance, she explained. "Sally called to check up on me. She told me about the thing with Jake and the car." Her voice didn't falter when she said Cassidy's name, which Rachel took as a good sign.

"His lawyer talked him out of making a complaint, since he was technically resisting arrest at the time. And given the nature of the crime he was being arrested for…"

"What about the inspector? I'm guessing she wasn't too pleased with you denting the patrol car."

Rachel grimaced. _That_ particular conversation hadn't been fun. "She wasn't thrilled about it. But it was a stupid thing to do, and I shouldn't have done it."

"Why did you?" Millie asked quietly, after a brief pause.

Rachel wasn't sure how to answer that. She was hesitant to examine her motives too closely, uncomfortably aware that doing so would lead her to conclusions she wasn't ready to face. So instead, she gave Millie the same answer she'd given the inspector. It wasn't, strictly speaking, a lie, but it wasn't the whole truth, either.

"I wasn't expecting Smithy to stop so close to him. He ran into the car and I was moving too quickly to stop in time."

Judging from Millie's expression, she didn't believe the half-truth anymore than Gina had, but Rachel was spared further questioning by their arrival at Millie's flat. The sergeant pulled over and killed the engine.

"Do you want me to come up with you?" She asked, looking over at her constable.

Millie dropped her gaze to her lap and blushed. "No, thanks. I'll be okay."

"Are you sure?"

This time Millie met her eye. "Yeah. Thanks, Sarge."

Rachel smiled and nodded as the constable climbed out of the car. "Call me if you need anything."

Millie smiled, then shut the door and started walking quickly towards the building. Rachel watched her until the front door closed behind her, then started the car again and pulled back onto the road.

She hadn't even reached the end of the street when her phone rang. Frowning, she glanced down at the caller ID before answering quickly.

"Millie?"

"Someone's been here."

* * *

**AN: Again, apologies for my long absence. **


End file.
